


A Long-Expected Party

by AutumnHobbit



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: A wild young Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee appear, Bilbo is an epic uncle, Bofur and Bifur are the ultimate children's party attraction, Gen, I WUV THEM ALL, I've got something in my eye, Peter Jackson's cat makes a cameo, Takes place between The Hobbit and LOTR, Uncle Bilbo feels, and domestic, and now I've made Gandalf's death 20x more painful, but there's not enough of that in LOTR anyways, cause when he falls all Frodo will be thinking about are the stories and the fireworks, sob, this is very fluffy, with Gandalf of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-08 00:02:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnHobbit/pseuds/AutumnHobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo hopes to cheer his nephew up and make him feel at home in Bag End on his first birthday without his parents. And what better way to celebrate than by inviting over some old friends?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Long-Expected Party

The light shining in from his small window woke him. Bilbo sat up and rubbed his eyes. He smiled a bit when he remembered the date: September 21st. Tomorrow was his birthday.

 _But not just mine,_ he reminded himself, climbing out of bed and pulling his robe about him. He stepped out into the hallway. “Frodo!” he called.

Silence.

“Oh, sticklebacks,” Bilbo muttered. “Where is that boy?” He walked out into the living room. “FRODO!”

Silence.

Bilbo sighed and headed back to his room, deciding that it would be far easier to locate his misplaced nephew once he was dressed and had had a scone...or two. Or three. With butter. And jam. And...

A half of an hour later, he stepped out into the front yard, sighing in satisfaction. He had selected a yellow vest, and wore his blue coat from Laketown over it; for some reason, his journey was fresh in his mind today.

Although, he had to say that he was happy to be in the Shire. It really was a lovely morning, bright blue sky, puffy, pure white clouds, and a gentle breeze. _A nice day for a stroll in the garden,_ he decided.

He stopped to marvel at a particularly purple blossom. The Gaffer, as Master Hamfast Gamgee was known in the neighborhood, had been Bag End’s gardener for time out of mind, and he certainly was deserving of the title.

A stirring beneath some of the flowers caugh his attention. Out crept Master Smudge, the Gamgee’s rather fluffy and lazy but good-natured cat.

“Good morning, Master Smudge! And a lovely one at that, don’t you think?” Bilbo said. Master Smudge did not reply, being rather occupied with climbing into one of Bilbo’s flower-boxes and curling up inside it.

“It’s my birthday tomorrow, you know, ” Bilbo said, half to himself and half to the cat. “It’s Frodo’s, as well. His first without his parents.”

Master Smudge glanced at Bilbo, as if inviting him to continue.

“I want to do something special for him,” Bilbo admitted. “He’s polite, but I know he’s not happy here. Not yet. I want to cheer him up some, him being such a little lad when he lost them. It was hard enough for me, and I was out of my tweens.”

Master Smudge mewed. Bilbo sighed and walked over, petting the cat thoughtfully.

“Gandalf promised he’d come. Frodo’ll like that. But I have another surprise for him. I’ve been planning it for a long while. I just hope it gets here on time.” Bilbo glanced down the road. Then he chuckled. “And here I am, talking to the neighbor’s cat about it.”

He could have sworn that Master Smudge almost smiled.

***

Bilbo resolved that if Frodo wasn’t back for luncheon, he would go out looking for him. It was odd enough for a hobbit to miss second breakfast, let alone elevensies.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to. At precisely 11:58, the front door creaked (he really needed to oil it,) and in came Frodo, brambles stuck in his brown curls and a book tucked under his arm.

“Where on earth have you been?” Bilbo asked, not necessarily crossly, but definitely with a hint of trepidation.  
Frodo blushed. “East Farthing woods. I’m sorry, Uncle,” he said, hanging his head.

“Now, now, there’s nothing to apologize for, my lad,” Bilbo said kindly. “Just come on in and have some luncheon. You must be starving. When was the last time you ate?”

“Breakfast,” Frodo sheepishly admitted.

As his nephew attacked the cold chicken and pickles with gusto, Bilbo glanced out the window. “Is something the matter, Uncle?” Frodo asked.

“Mmm, what? Oh! No, umm, no, just...waiting for something,” Bilbo said, sitting down. Frodo arched an eyebrow before returning to his meal.

“Frodo...what exactly were you doing in the woods, anyway?” Bilbo asked cautiously. Frodo sighed.

“I just...I found one of my old books,” he admitted softly.

“A book?”

“Yes, that Mother used to read me. About...” his voice dippped. “About Elves.”

“Elves?” Bilbo asked.

“Yes. I’ve always been fascinated by them, Uncle. But no one else is. Every time I mention them here in Hobbiton, the kids just laugh at me, or run off scared, or tell their parents.”

“Ah.” Bilbo couldn’t help but smile. “Well, in that, my dear nephew, we are alike.”

Frodo glanced up at him, his blue eyes showing his confusion.

“The neighbors don’t much trust me, either. I’m one of those queer Tooks, you know. And I always did love Elves, too.”

Frodo’s face lit up. “Really?”

“Yes, indeed. I’ve even met some on my travels. But Gandalf knows more of them than I do. You can ask him all you like, when he comes tomorrow.”

By the way that Frodo smiled, Bilbo knew he’d said the right thing.

***

A shower of sparks flew from the candles atop the honey cake that Bilbo had made. They danced in alternating patterns, almost resembling stars in their wild flight, before they formed into a Mountain, and then a dragon burst from within it, flaming. Then it dissipated, leaving only a greenish smoke behind.

Frodo clapped as he stared in awe, and Bilbo somewhat crankily dragged himself up from where he’d taken cover on the floor. “That was amazing, Mister Gandalf!” Frodo said.

“Oh, you’re quite welcome, Frodo,” Gandalf said cheerfully, almost seeming entertained by Bilbo’s reaction. “Although, you really don’t need to call me Mister. I am Gandalf, and Gandalf means me.”

“Alright, Mist...I mean Gandalf.” Frodo said. Gandalf smiled. “Bilbo, my lad, aren’t you going to cut the cake?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Bilbo said, dusting his waistcoat off and heading into the kitchen. Just as he pulled a knife out of the drawer, there came a loud BRRRRING at the door. For a moment, he froze. Then a huge smile spread across his face, and he whirled and almost ran down the hallway to the door.

He pulled it open, and standing there were two dwarves, one wearing a ridiculous hat, and the other with an axe in his head. Both were loaded down with several packages. “At your service once more, Master Baggins,” the one with the hat said cheerfully. “Is that a knife in your hand, or are you just happy to see us?”

“Bofur! Bifur! Come in, come in. You made it just in time for cake,” Bilbo said happily, holding the door as the dwarves deposited their burdens and other paraphernalia (though not Bofur’s hat; he almost never took it off.)

“Is that so? A mite of cake would be quite nice after the road, wouldn’t it, Bifur?” Bifur grunted something in Khuzdul, but he seemed about as cheerful as Bilbo had ever seen him.

Bofur looked kindly at Frodo sitting at the table, and even Bifur smiled. Bilbo hurried over. “Frodo, my lad, I’d like you to meet some very good friends of mine. These are Bifur and Bofur, dwarves of Ered Luin...the Blue Mountains, that is.”

Frodo stared in awe. “It’s very good to meet you,” he managed. “Pardon me for asking, but are you _the_ dwarves, companions of Thorin Oakenshield?”

“That we are, and a fine leader he was,” Bofur said. For a moment, all was quiet in the small room. “Ah, well, he would be proud of how we’ve rebuilt.”

Of course, now was a natural time for Bilbo to begin serving the cake in between talking to Bofur of the restorations being done on the Mountain and on the town of Dale, as Bifur and Gandalf carried on a conversation, and Frodo watched, intrigued.

Once the cake was mostly finished (there was quite a lot of it, even for a wizard, two hobbits, and two dwarves,) Bofur and Bifur went for the packages they’d brought.

“Well, my lad, your uncle tells us that it is your birthday today.” Bofur said. Frodo nodded. “Well, several months ago he wrote to us and asked that we make this just for you, so we came for a visit to bring it.” He lifted the cover off of a pack and reached into it. Frodo caught his breath at the toy. It was a beautiful, mechanical Eagle, with wings that flapped when a string was pulled. Frodo took the toy delicately, examining it. “Did you make this, Mister Bofur?”

“Oh, well actually, Bifur made it,” Bofur said. “He’s a right bit better at that sort of thing than me.” Frodo glanced at Bifur, who was beaming. “Thank you. I love it.” Frodo started to run off to play, then stopped, whirled, and ran to his uncle, hugging him. “And thank you, too, Uncle Bilbo.” Bilbo was taken aback for a moment, then returned the gesture. “Now, run along and play, Frodo lad,” he said kindly. Frodo was all too happy to oblige.

Maybe an hour had gone by, the sun had set, Frodo was still running about playing, and Bilbo had just brought out some eggs, when there came...a knock. Everyone froze. Bilbo got up slowly. “Now, who could _that_ be?” he wondered aloud as he trotted down the hall.

He opened the door, and there stood none other than Samwise Gamgee, the young son of Master Hamfast, with a basket in his hand and a blush on his honest face. “Why, Master Samwise, come in, come in,” Bilbo said, holding the door for the lad.

“Oh, begging your pardon, Mister Bilbo, I hate to interrupt,” Sam said, stuttering. “My gaffer just sent me over with a basket of these taters. He just dug them this morning, sir, and thought they were so good, he just had to share some.” Bilbo accepted the basket. “Well, come in and help yourself to some cake, Sam.” Sam’s face brightened at the mention of food, and he trotted willngly after Bilbo. “Whose birthday is it, if you don’t mind my asking, Mister Bilbo?”

“Mine and Frodo’s, lad.” Bilbo replied.

“Oh, many happy returns to you, Mister Bilbo!” Sam said earnestly. He turned to the young hobbit seated on the floor with his toy. “And to you, too, Mister Frodo.”

“Why thank you, Sam,” Frodo smiled shyly.

Sam was soon munching happily on cake, and Bofur crept over to Bilbo. “I think I might have something for the lad.”

Bilbo smiled.

***

Sam was admiring Frodo’s toy rather wistfully, when Bofur approached, with his pack again. “Now, if I understand Shire tradition correctly, isn’t it customary to give out presents on one’s birthday, as well?”

Frodo and Sam nodded.

“Well, then, here’s a gift for you, my lad.”

Sam gasped at the sight of a delicately carved, yet sturdy, stout, and very realistic-looking oliphaunt. He took it from Bofur’s outstretched hand and stared at it, before he burst into thanking them earnestly. Gandalf smiled as he lit his pipe on the chandelier and came in to take a seat in one of the armchairs before the fire. “Are you ready, Frodo?”

Frodo bounced happily over and sat at Gandalf’s feet, his Eagle clutched firmly to his lap. Sam glanced at them, confused. “Ready for what, Mister Gandalf?”

“Stories, of course. About Elves.” Frodo flinched, but Sam’s eyes widened. “Do..do you mind if I stay, sir? I’ve always wanted to hear more about elves.”

Frodo was surprised. “You do?”

Sam flushed. “Well...yessir, I’ve always loved them.”

Frodo smiled and patted the rug next to him. Sam walked over and sat down, the both of them fixed on Gandalf. Bilbo smiled at the sight, then turned as Bofur tapped his shoulder.

“We have a gift for you as well. It’s from Dwalin and Balin.” He handed Bilbo a heavy, flat package. Then he followed Bifur to lean in the doorway, listening to the story, as well.

Bilbo opened the letter that sat on top of the package, smiling at the familiar script.

 

_A little gift for our company burglar, the esteemed Bilbo Baggins. Many happy returns to you, lad. We’re all looking forward to finally reading your memoirs._

_Balin and Dwalin_

Now Bilbo knew what it was, but he was still smiling as he unwrapped the package. Inside were thick sheets of parchment, rugged but good-quality, and beautifully blank. And also, there was soft, durable, smooth red leather.

Quietly, Bilbo slipped into his study. He unlocked a drawer and carefully placed the gift on top of a worn green cloak which concealed another one of his mementos, and locked it back.

Then he grabbed a couple scones, and went and took his spot with his nephew and Sam on the floor at Gandalf’s feet, listening. And as the wizard’s deep voice recited ancient tales of lands far away, Bilbo decided that there was nowhere else he would rather be. 

Since, after all, there really is no place like home.

**Author's Note:**

> I obviously do not own the characters/happenings.
> 
> Please let me know what you think. :)


End file.
